


THE Bedroom

by Salustra



Series: Cuddleverse [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salustra/pseuds/Salustra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY: Sherlock and John have to share a bedroom and...you'll see.<br/>SPOILERS: None really<br/>DISCLAIMER: Playing wit the boys, but we’re just having fun.  No money made, don’t sue us!  (or, in more formal language-<br/><b>Copyright Disclaimer</b> I do not own any characters, products or services depicted in this story which you recognize. Original characters/characterization and plot are mine. Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel The Series characters are OOC and I cite section 107 of the US copyright clause on 'fair use' to be found <a href="http://www.copyright.gov/fls/fl102.html"><b>HERE</b> </a><br/>Principally this is a transformative work, for enjoyment only, has a selective audience and I make no profit. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	THE Bedroom

"Is that my laptop?" John asked, his previous question skidding to a halt. 

Sherlock was typing away and didn't pause his typing or look up to answer. "Yes." 

"Where's yours?" 

"It's in the bedroom." 

John was about to say something biting in response when the wording attracted his attention. 'The' bedroom. Not 'my' bedroom, but 'the' bedroom. "What's happened to my bedroom?" He asked. 

"Nothing, it's still in the same place," Sherlock answered. 

"Sherlock," John said, a somewhat more irritated and dangerous tone creeping into his overly soft delivery. "What is going on in my bedroom to make it uninhabitable?" 

"Oh, _that_ ," Sherlock said. "I've got an experiment in there right now. Is that a problem?" 

"Is that a problem?" John sounded stupefied by the question. "Where am I supposed to sleep, you pillock? And where are my bloody clothes?" 

"Well in the bedroom of course, to both answers. Plenty of room in there, I barely notice the place and you know my wardrobe is minimal at best." 

"There's only one bed, Sherlock," John said, trying to make his voice sound calm and reasonable. 

"And we're both grown men and can surely share a queen-sized bed together without it becoming a matter for this much fuss," Sherlock replied. 

"Sherlock, I..." John let his voice trail off. It was useless to argue with Sherlock on something that should be perfectly obvious to anyone else. Namely, human nature. "Fine. I get the side nearest the loo and that's that." 

"Of course, John," Sherlock said, sounding perfectly reasonable. And that was that. 

Until the night came and John found himself in his pajamas, brushing his teeth and trying very hard not to think about the prospect of sharing an actual bed with an actual man, namely Sherlock, and definitely trying not to think about getting a stiffy in the process. 

Sherlock was currently laid out with his hands laced behind his head, looking like absolute sin in blue satin pajama pants. Just the pants. John was silently cursing him, cursing that he'd ever taken up residence with a man like Sherlock who could be so utterly clueless to how he looked or his effect on people. He finished rinsing his mouth, then the toothbrush, and he squared his shoulders to go out and deal with the tall dark and handsome menace on the bed. 

He walked into the bedroom, fully prepared to take whatever looks or comments might come his way for the fleecy dog pajamas he was wearing... only to be confronted by an already sleeping Sherlock, curled up on the bed. John sighed and crawled into bed, pulling up the covers and forcing himself to relax and go to sleep. 

Morning came and John woke up slowly. He was warm and comfortable and his fingers curled lightly on the pillow that lay against his chest. It wasn't, he discovered, a pillow. It was warm and distressingly similar to flesh. His eyes flew open and found he was wrapped around a sleeping Sherlock and his fingers were kneading on Sherlock's nicely sculpted chest. "Eeek!" 

"Mmm that's nice baby," Sherlock muttered and rolled over onto his belly, pulling John along with him so that John was resting on Sherlock's back. Which put his groin in dismaying vicinity of Sherlock's ass. John hmphled and tried to pull himself loose. Sherlock, however asleep he might be, appeared to have other plans, and was holding tight to John's arm. Worse, the struggling just rubbed him against Sherlock's ass. 

John whimpered slightly and stopped struggling. He could either wake Sherlock up and face the embarassment or lay here and hope Sherlock shifted his position before he woke. He decided that patience trumped valor and he settled in to wait. The room was still and quiet and only the ticking of the alarm clock broke the silence. It didn't take long before John, despite his anxiousness, slipped off to sleep again. 

He awoke to a slightly smiling Sherlock humming (yes humming!) to himself as he was shaving. John blinked and stared at Sherlock. "You seem cheerful this morning," he said. 

"I'm always cheerful when I shave," Sherlock said. "Always a chance of injury or something to start off the day." He finished the last stroke with the straight razor and wiped the vestigal shaving cream from his face. 

John muttered, "I could give you an injury to start the day." 

"What?" Sherlock asked. 

"Nothing." John pushed up and scrubbed at his face with his hands. He walked slowly into the bathroom and got his electric razor, starting to work on his face. Living in the same bedroom was not going to be easy, he could tell.


End file.
